Woman, I am Born
by PinkTeaRose
Summary: AU. The story takes place in Ireland in the 1550's -1600's. Minerva's actions will plunge the clan into a civil war and force them into the front line against the invading English. Romance, Action, Violence, Drama. Title from The Pirate Queen. f/f
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Woman, I am Born **

**Summary: AU. The story takes place in Ireland in the 1550's -1600's. There are historical allusions to the events that occurred during this time and the people who lived in this period. Some of the references are accurate (I have done extensive research on this period) while others I have taken some artistic liberties to match my story. **

**The story will have our darling Minerva and other characters. If you haven't ever read about this period in Irish/English history, I recommend it… It's quite fascinating. **

**Thanks to my Gaelic Queen, my muse. **

**Lucero is begging me to add Severus Snape in this, so yes, he'll be in here.**

**Background- a MacWilliam is like the chief of a clan/area of land (like a county would be).**

**Rating: M for violence, sex, and language. Some femslash. I'll post a warning **

**Enjoy!**

**xxxxxxxxx**

The place was Ireland; the time, 1562. The land was divided amongst the clans- some forever-battling age-old civil wars between one MacWilliam's clan and another. Others- working together to survive on the Irish lands.

An age-old Gaelic tradition kept these families going. Almost like clockwork, their different clans fought and cooperated for the glory of Ireland.

Only the eminent invasion of England struck fear in the proud Irish. But even with the exploitive policies of one nasty Sir Richard Bingham, the Gaelics knew that they would be safe.

The McGonagalls would make sure of that.

There was something different about the clan. Ruled by the iron-fisted Riordan and the fierce Rioghnach, their clan seemed immune to the troubles that plagued the surrounding families.

Their crops always seemed to weather storms, the livestock was always healthy, and the women never died during childbirth.

_Bail ó Dhia, _the others called it. Prosperity from God.

God may have had something to do with it. Certainly the McGonagalls were all devoted and loyal Catholics, their family having adopted the religion some years back, as many other Irish had.

The west wing of their castle contained a rather large chapel and prayer room.

But the McGonagalls knew that God played a very small part in their victories.

Xxxxxxx

In the time of England's King Arthur and Camelot, the awe and mystery of magic had captured the imagination of the people, embodied by the small wizard Merlin.

He dazzled them with displays of twinkling lights and vanishing goblets, his skills the center of the town's entertainment.

His own magical powers were highly concealed, for to him, light shows and vanishing spells were child's play and nothing to be fawned over.

No one knew how much his magic could actually do.

He didn't fear their admiration of his small magic, hence the reason he displayed it at appropriate times. Other times he would feign ill or weakness, making the skeptics raise their eyebrows, their suspicions of his false magic seemingly confirmed.

Merlin's fears were based on his all-too-real knowledge of how dangerous magic could be. In the hands of the wrong person, magic was destructive, dangerous, and deadly.

The village demanded him to marry, hoping his children would have the same incredible powers.

Merlin had, unknowingly to them, started his own family in Ireland.

Knowing his wife Morgana's magical powers and their unborn children's magical potential, he decided the open plains and rolling hills of Ireland would be a much more suitable place instead of the crowded city of Camelot.

And so his family stayed, adapting their home and their trade to match those around them. Though outsiders originally, by the fourth generation, the clan of Merlin had been accepted.

In 1253, Merlin's great-great-great-great granddaughter, Margaret, fell in love with a tall, handsome, strapping man named Connor McGonagall.

Their marriage was originally forbidden, him being without magic.

But no orders or space could separate the two, and they married secretly on Connor's land, his parents having no objection to the marriage.

However, upon their return to Margaret's castle, Connor was locked in the uppermost room in order for him to digest hard truths about his wife's heritage.

For a man brought up in the rough world of Irish farming and fishing, he took the news surprisingly well… after fainting first.

Taking a magical oath as old as time, he vowed to protect their secret and raise his children to achieve their full magical and worldly potential.

Keeping this secret, however, proved difficult, as his children, Connor II and Tibbot had a nasty inclination in their toddler years to throw fire out of their hands during temper tantrums.

Their children started the line of the McGonagalls, a line that had begun to prove itself as the most skilled descendants from Merlin.

Of course it wasn't just the McGonagalls. Several other family lines had begun to grow, but

And as the years progressed, the magical family grew. The Merlin home evolved from one castle into a small village all their own. Some descendants displayed no magical power, but more often the new additions brought even more skills to the family.

All the children were educated together, learning to harness their power for the good of the village- protecting the crops from harsh winds and rains, luring the fish in for a more plentiful catch (but never wasteful), and occasionally helping out others not in their village who needed a break from the cruel and majestic land that was Ireland.

By the 1400s, the McGonagalls were the most prevalent family in the area, consisting of nearly a fourth of the total people, numbering close to ten thousand. Their isolated little village masked by several well-placed spells and charms.

The Gaelic tradition of Ireland divided power amongst the MacWilliams. In 1550, the O'Malley clan, the O'Flaherty clan, and the Bourke clan had emerged as the most powerful in the coastal region near Belcare, Clew Bay, and Rockfleet.

Though not involved in all Gaelic affairs, the McGonagalls positioned themselves as a neutral family, helping any clan who clearly and accurately expressed their needs.

Their principals of neutrality and non-interference were kept strong.

Until Minerva and Siofra McGonagall, the beautiful daughters of Riordan and Rioghnach.

Minerva's forbidden affair with the Pirate Queen, Grace O'Malley and Siofra's disastrous marriage to Gregor O'Flaherty plunged the magical clan into civil war and forced the McGonagalls into the front line against the invading English.

Their actions would plunge the clan into a civil war and force them into the front line against the invading English, jeopardizing not only the lives of those around them, but the very future of magic itself.

Xxxxxxxx

**A/N: Sound interesting? This is more of a background than the beginning of the story. The war will build up.**

**If this sounds like a good story to everyone, I'll continue. **

**Reviews and concrit always welcome! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I reckon I'll continue another chapter and see if people still think this is a good idea. **

**Yes, I know that Minerva is Scottish, but I know more about Irish Gaelics, therefore she is now Irish Gaelic in this story! **

**Also, Siofra = She-fra **

**Xxxxxxxx**

The breeze was strong off the Irish coast. The smell of salt lingered as the last rays of orange gave way into the bright yellow light of the morning.

Minerva sat up in her bed and stretched her tired muscles. Though she had loved her day out riding, her body now protested against such rigor.

Glancing over, she could tell her sister Siofra was stirring too. Her sleepy blue eyes looked grey in the pale light; her blonde hair was tangled and plastered to her face.

"Mornin, sister." Minerva said groggily.

"Hmmph." Came the reply.

The dark haired witch crawled into her sister's bed and snuggled in beside her small, warm body as they had done for nearly twenty years. Her long fingers began gently combing through Siofra's thin hair.

The smell of eggs and meat wafted up into their little room, urging their bodies to get on up out of bed.

Always the girl of the two, Siofra put on her pretty blue dress and began washing her face and hands.

Minerva, a tomboy and far too active for a dress, but on her brown pants, leather boots, white cotton shirt, and a long vest on top of it. She worked her fingers through her hair, making a long braid of black and brown hair down her back.

The sun always had a way of changing the deep onyx of her hair into a mix of brown and red.

Siofra's hair kept getting blonder as the summer progressed. What was once threatening brown had now turned into a white blonde halo of thin, long hair.

Minerva moved to her sister and buttoned the back of her dress.

"How do you want your hair?" She asked.

"You pick." Siofra replied, sitting down in front of the small mirror.

The taller witch began working her fingers in her sister's hair, twisting it and braiding it this way and that until it sat in a perfect, complex bun at the nape of her neck.

They had always had this little morning routine, ever since either girl could remember.

Minerva, not yet two when Siofra was born, had always been overly protective of her little sister. Though Siofra was not frail by any means, she had a thin figure and small stature, her five foot three body barely hitting one hundred and ten pounds.

Definitely her grandmother's granddaughter.

But Minerva had inherited her father's physique. A lean five foot seven, she was a good head taller than most of the girls in the area.

It didn't bother her, really, that guys never looked her way. She had never really been attracted to them- they were never smart enough for her.

The opposite could be said for her sister, who flitted around from guy to guy, never promising anything but charming them with her blue eyes and easy smile.

Such a duo the sisters made.

As they headed downstairs to breakfast, Minerva was hit in the head with a rather large sack of horse feed.

"Son of a whore!" She yelled, twisting her body and yanking on the burlap sack, making her brother nearly lose his balance on the ledge above.

"Get down here!" Minerva demanded, jumping upwards and pulling on Tibbot's long arm.

Sure enough, he went headfirst over the ledge and fell ungracefully on his back to the landing below.

Placing her boot on his chest, Minerva leaned down and whispered, "I win."

Not being one to lose, Tibbot leaned up and snaked his arm around Minerva's thin leg, causing her to fall down beside him.

Rolling over, she grabbed his arms and tried to wrestle them behind his back.

"NOT BEFORE WE EAT!"

Rioghnach rolled her eyes at her children. Why couldn't they just be nice until after breakfast?

"Sorry mum."

"Sorry," they mumbled, Minerva still managing to smack her brother's head as he stood up.

"Sit down and eat, please," she said, a hint of humor lacing the Irish brogue.

Xxxxxxxxx

By ten Minerva was heading down to the school building. Siofra had dashed ahead, wanting to walk with Gregor O'Flaherty.

Minerva couldn't see what she saw in the guy. He had a nasty temper, was downright awful at sailing, and he could barely hold his own in a sword fight.

But she stayed silent. Her sister's choice, not hers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a not-so-gentle bump on her shoulder.

Fists at the ready, Minerva spun around expecting her brother.

Instead, Granuaile O'Malley, Grace, she was called, stood before her.

"Morning, Minerva," she said pleasantly. Her voice was raspy and rough, not surprising for the woman notorious for being an O'Malley pirate. Her skin was tan and freckled, evidence of her years in the sun. Her hair was perfectly curly and red, surprisingly attractive for a pirate.

"Good morning yourself." Minerva felt her face flush. She had always been attracted to Grace, but she was terrified of these feelings. From everything she had been taught- it wasn't natural.

Her muscular arms crossed in front of her; her emerald eyes focused steadily in front of her.

Grace jogged in front and stood in Minerva's line of vision. "Where are you off to today?"

"Classes, as usual. You?" Side step.

"Another day out at sea if we can repair the Kielnamara."

"Oh, wonderful," Minerva quickened her pace, trying to avoid Grace's piercing brown eyes.

"Come sailing with me?" Grace asked, gently placing her hand on the dark haired witch's arm.

"I… I don't know… perhaps another day, not today." Minerva knew her face was red and hot. She couldn't handle Grace being so close to her.

And for some reason for the past year, Grace had found a way to just show up where Minerva was. They had never had a real conversation, but still Grace kept popping up everywhere.

"Aw, but why not? Surely you can come after your… whatever you do."

"Lessons. And I don't know if my mother will need me at the house."

Minerva stopped at the opening of the short stone fence surrounding the school.

"If you change your mind, I'll be at Belclare castle." With a quick smile, Grace headed off.

Siofra stood at the door, giggling at her sister.

"Shut up, you." Minerva growled, gently hitting her sister on the arm.

Minerva took her normal seat at the back of the room, lanky legs draped over the back desk. Her sister moved to the front. The good student.

Not that Minerva was ever bad, she was just disinterested. She had been practicing her magic all her life, spending long hours in the back room with her father as he drilled spell after spell into her mind.

She was the top student in her class, much to her instructor's chagrin. Caitlin McMillan was a strict woman in her late forties who had taught her whole life.

Everyone in Merlin's village went to her. Everyone came out a much better witch or wizard.

Minerva gave her the most trouble. Not that the tall witch was ever disruptive, but her mind was always somewhere else. At nineteen, this was her last season of required classes.

She had made no signs of wanting to do more with her magic, as she certainly could, but Minerva seemed to be content working the land without the aid of her magic skills.

Today was no different than any other. Minerva took her seat in the back of the room, an air of indifference surrounding her, her emerald eyes trained on the window towards Belclare.

Sighing, Caitlin knew that Minerva would do what she would do. She marched to some internal drum that she kept well hidden inside her.

"Good morning, everyone. Let's begin with transfiguration, shall we?"

xxxxxxx

When class dismissed around three that afternoon, Minerva's stomach growled in protest.

The first one out of class, Rioghnach sat waiting on the fence.

"Hi mother," Minerva said plopping down beside her mother.

"Sandwich?" she asked, offering her daughter the basket on her arm.

"Always," Minerva replied, taking out the food and nearly swallowing it whole

"I swear, you eat just like your brothers. How you all are not fat will never cease to amaze me."

Though not big, her figure had definitely become more voluptuous after her three children.

Siofra came up beside them and placed a gentle kiss on her mother's cheek. "Hi mother, can I go to Gregor's for luncheon?" She smiled what she no doubt thought was her innocent smile.

"Go," Rioghnach said with a laugh. "Go right ahead."

The blonde dashed off to where he was standing, and they walked hand in hand towards his small house on the east side of the village.

"Crazy girl." Minerva mumbled.

"What about you? You coming home or going out today?"

Grace's offering came to mind.

"I see that you do have plans."

"Well, mother, I was invited to go sailing but I don't know if I should…"

"Go. We don't really need you at the house."

Minerva groaned. Not the response she was looking for. "But surely you need some cleaning done, or I can work with the horses again, or out in the field… "

"The only time you want to work, Minerva McGonagall, is when you are avoiding something. So no, do not come home until the sun is good and set, you hear?"

Rolling her green eyes, she stood up to go. "Fine. Fine."

"Take your horse, I brought him here."

Turning towards the post, Minerva saw her dark horse waiting for her. "Hi there, Dutch." So named for his birthplace.

"Have a good time, Minnie."

Another eye roll. "I will…"

Mounting his strong back, Minerva settled her feet into the stirrups and headed for Belclare, knowing that this rendezvous was anything but a wise idea.

Xxxxxxx

**A/N: So what do you think? Reviews and concrit! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, hope you all enjoy**

**Xxxxx**

After a rather pleasant walk, Siofra and Gregor arrived to his small house.

It was built in the style of a castle, but the top floor was vacant, only used for entertaining guests.

Siofra was anxiously sitting at the table with Gregor by her side. His parents sat across from them, their eyes seemed to peer into her soul as she tried to eat her meal and answer their barrage of questions.

"What do you do in _your_ classroom?" His mother Margaret asked.

Siofra swallowed. Slowly she replied, "Oh, nothing grand, just languages and simple math. We study the land, farming, and wind patterns for sailing."

"So you sail?" Connor, the father.

"Uh, no, just learn about it."

"What do you do then?" Margaret.

"Mainly help around the house,"

"But your crops are fine." Connor.

"Yes, well,"

"And your cattle looks good," Margaret

"Well, thank you,"

"And your family seems capable of working," Connor.

"They are."

"And…"

"ENOUGH!" Gregor yelled, hitting his fist on the table. "She is a guest- she is MY guest. Don't treat her like some common criminal." His hand eased into her hand under the table and squeezed for reassurance.

Several moments passed by in silence. Siofra didn't know whether to keep looking down or look up… to pick up her drink or leave it be. This was perhaps one of the most awkward lunches she'd ever had in her life.

She knew that people found her family odd, but she'd never been so cornered about the whole deal.

She glanced up. Margaret seemed to be really focused on her ring.

Connor looked taken aback, but he said, "Well she comes from a strange family and clan, that's all."

Siofra nodded her head, "We're all strange. I think it's a genetic thing, like eye color."

At this, all three of them laughed genuinely. "Do you think so?" Margaret asked, no hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Oh, yes, why I'm a terrible runner! Tibbot is too! Both of us look like chickens with our heads cut off…"

xxxxxxx

Approaching the shore, the salty hair hit Minerva's nose, making her inhale deeply.

To her, there was nothing more soothing than the breeze of the Irish coast.

Her horse's ears twitched, alerting her to the woman walking up the stone pathway.

"So you came after all?" Grace smirked.

Eye roll. "There wasn't anything else to do."

Grace crossed her arms and tried to look offended, but her brown eyes had a twinkle in them. "Well fine. You can follow me to the ship if you _want_ to, but I'm not making you…."

With that she turned on her heel and started towards the dock at the point of the shoreline.

Hopping off Dutch and tying him to the post nearby, Minerva walked quickly to rejoin the O'Malley girl.

"Good day?" Minerva asked lamely. She was so lousy at starting a conversation.

But Grace seemed not to notice Minerva's lack of social skills, or perhaps the pirates weren't all that eloquent themselves. "Oh, yes, it was fine. I think the ship is repaired. The wood on the bottom was leaking, which seems to be a reoccurring problem in the Kielnamara. It's happened a lot before. Apparently in the New World, they use a certain kind of tar to help seal up the cracks. Father went to England a while back to purchase some, and it's worked marvelously. I think he's going back soon."

"How fascinating. I've never been to England." Minerva said.

"Oh, yes, well, fascinating is one word. I didn't like London very much. It was rather dirty." Grace climbed over a rather tall stone fence as a shortcut and beckoned Minerva to do the same.

In one swift motion, Minerva was up and over. Even though Grace was shorter, her muscular arms propelled her over the fence, landing solidly on her feet.

"As I was saying, London was dirty. The streets smelled like shit."

The witch smiled at Grace's forwardness.

"It was crowded there too, hardly any room to just exist. But the countryside, what very little I saw, was pleasant enough. But I don't think anything will ever beat Ireland for me."

"I should think not."

They had arrived at the ship. Pulling on the rope and easing the boat forward, Grace held out her hand, allowing Minerva to jump onto the deck. Extending her hand, she returned the favor.

"So this is it," the emerald-eyed witch said.

"Aye, but we'll stay up on deck, below still has a rather strong smell."

Crossing the deck, Grace moved to the front where the bow protruded at the front of the ship.

"The carving on the front looks like you," Minerva stated.

"I think the likeness is of grandmother O'Malley, too."

Hoping onto the rail, Grace lowered herself down onto a hammock-like netting below the bow.

A bit slower, Minerva eased her long body down the boat until she felt her foot hit the ropes.

"Don't be scared," Grace teased.

"Hey, it's my first time on here, be nice."

Sighing, Grace laid down and stared at the blue sky. "Tell me about you, Minerva McGonagall. Who are you…."

The witch extended her legs and leaned her back against the hull of the ship.

"Well let's see. I have two younger siblings, Siofra and Tibbot. Siofra and I live together and I've done her hair her whole life. Tibbot is annoying and we tend to fight a lot, but we've never seriously injured each other."

Pause.

"Oh, except for the time I broke his nose." At this, Grace gave a belly laugh, making Minerva blush.

"Hmm. What else? My father is Riordan, my mother is Rioghnach. I have a horse named Dutch because he's from the Netherlands. I don't like cabbage, but anything else is fine. I like to wear pants instead of dresses. I get a new pair of boots every year because I wear these out rather quickly. That's about it."

Grace continued staring at the sky, absorbing what had been said.

"Will you get married?" She asked quietly.

But before Minerva could think of a response, Grace launched into her own. "I am. To Donal O'Flaherty."

"Related to Gregor?"

"Same clan, different line."

"Oh. Sorry, continue."

"It's just… He's… he's not my choice of lover. He fights well enough I suppose. He can't sail worth a damn. His hair is kind of blonde and stringy. His muscles are smaller than mine, but he's taller than you. But he's mean, Minerva. He's a wicked drunk. Likes the whores. I don't mind it so much, but he's known for it. No one in the clan really likes him, but the marriage is required."

"Why? Why on earth would they make you marry him?"

"The clan wants to be more powerful if the English keep invading. If I marry him and have a child, our clan is joined."

"Surely they won't force you…"

Grace turned her sad dark eyes towards Minerva. "They will. But it is for a trial period of two years. I can leave if I need to."

"Will you be happy? Is it possible?" She asked gently.

"No one I marry could truly make me happy."

"What is it you want to do?"

At this Grace perked up a bit. "I want to sail. I want to go out with my father and fight the Spanish and take their gold. I want to rob the English and take back what is rightfully ours. I want to hear my sword clanging against a man's in the heat of the battle. I want to feel the wind on my face. I want to be a pirate."

"Then do it."

"It's not that easy. The first time I sneaked onto the boat, he threatened to keel haul me though the water. He's used to the idea of me being on the ship now, and the crew doesn't think I'm bad luck anymore. But I won't ever inherit my father's lands and ships. As soon as I marry, they'll go to the O'Flaherty's. I'm his only child and I'm a girl."

Minerva thought silently about the situation. Everything she could say seemed pointless.

"No, I won't dwell on this," Grace said. "Please, tell me more about you."

Minerva chuckled, "I don't know what there is more to tell."

"You are magic." Grace said plainly.

If someone had said this to her in a market, Minerva would have had her face all composed into a perfect look of utter shock. But she had already let her guard drop, and after the look that she knew crossed her face, she had no doubt Grace got her answer.

"No I'm not." She said weakly.

"Yes you are."

"Not."

"Are too, I've been watching you."

Minerva was so shocked she tried to stand up, but remembering that she was on ropes, she plopped back down. "Why are you watching me?"

"You're gorgeous." Grace said plainly, as if talking about the weather. "And you spend a lot of time by yourself by the abandoned castle. I'm normally out hiding in the crags on the shore. You find things there."

Minerva crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to hide her excitement at being called gorgeous.

"And what did you see?"

Grace sat up and looked Minerva in the eye. "You change things. One second it's a rock, the next it's a bird. You make things float in the sky. You send boulders shooting into and out of the water."

Minerva's eyes were wide with panic. Grace had seen far more than she ought to have.

Picking up on her fear, Grace put her hands on Minerva's leg, "I'm the only one who saw, don't worry. You really are secluded there."

Still suspicious and now a bit hot from the contact, Minerva raised her eyebrow and gave the pirate a look.

"Oh, come now, I wouldn't lie to you!" Grace insisted.

Minerva uncrossed her arms and slumped down. She could just remove Grace's memory right here and forget the whole thing. But some part of her was thrilled that this incredible woman knew her secret.

"Doesn't it frighten you?" She asked incredulously.

O'Malley shook her head. "No, there are a lot of stories about your family and your family line. I think everyone knows you're a little weird. I just wanted to see if it was true. And it was."

"So you think,"

"So I saw."

"Eyes can deceive," Minerva said.

"Not mine." Grace was firm and final.

"You haven't told anyone?"

Grace shook her head. "Don't have anyone to tell it to, really."

Minerva thought about it. But Grace chose that moment, to lay her head gently on Minerva's lap, making the witch forget about her worries.

"If you tell anyone, you know I can kill you, right?" Minerva warned, her voice the hard steel she used against the boys who bullied Tibbot.

O'Malley didn't seem to be offended and simply said, "I know you could."

"Do you have a secret?" Minerva asked.

Grace laughed and rolled her eyes. "Too many. Where shall I start?"

"Perhaps with one as poignant as mine!"

Grace closed her eyes, deep in thought. Absent mindedly, Minerva began playing with Grace's hair. It was different than Siofra's; her sister's was fine and silky whereas Grace's was curly and thick. Minerva's long fingers began braiding small strands. Surprisingly, the braid held without aid of a ribbon. She worked her fingers through again and undid the plait, then re-parted the chuck and braided again.

"You can' tell this," Grace said, her brown eyes shiny in the afternoon sun.

"I won't." Minerva assured.

Taking a deep breath, Grace muttered, "I mmmhmmm mmm."

"What?"

"I limm gmmm"

Minerva rolled her eyed and gently hit Grace's arm. "For heaven's sake speak up! Whatever you have to say it isn't as shocking as my secrets, damn!"

Grace looked up into the sky, took a deep break, and said, "I like girls the way I should like guys."

Silence.

"Ok." Minerva said.

Sitting up and spinning around at a dizzying speed, Grace whisper-yelled, "What do you mean ok? It is not ok!"

Shrugging, Minerva turned away and focused on a spot on her boots. "Well, I mean, I like them too, so I guess I don't think it's that odd."

"Really?" a small voiced asked.

But Minerva picked up on the lack of genuine surprise at her response, and the synapses in her head started firing.

The pieces starting coming together, then…

"You figured that didn't you? That's why you asked me here today!"

Grace was a bit stunned at just how quickly Minerva had come to that conclusion. Accurate? Yes, but Grace hadn't planned on her being that quick.

But now Minerva was upset at being used. She felt as if she had been lured here and told a sappy story just so she'd feel bad for Grace and go running into her arms.

She was young, but she wasn't naïve, and she definitely wasn't stupid.

Getting up and yanking herself over the rails, Minerva sped across the deck and leapt onto the weathered dock, her heels making a mad clicking sound as she stormed away from the ship.

"Minerva wait!"

Refusing to look back, Minerva conjured up a picture of her horse in her mind and spun, a pop sounding in the air, her body apparating at the speed of light, landing her beside her horse in the blink of an eye. She hating doing it, it always made her queasy, but she was desperate.

Untying him and mounting, Minerva flicked the reigns and sped off towards home at a break-neck speed, her pride wounded and her heart longing.

Xxxxxxx

**A/N: And so? You tell me! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: trying to work quickly and post as soon as I can! Enjoy!**

**xxxxx**

Instead of turning home, Minerva decided to go to her secluded castle, even though she knew Grace was aware of its location. She'd hope her apparition had given her departure an air of mystery.

Minerva couldn't deny her feelings for the O'Malley girl, but she never had any intentions on revealing them- even though her heart soared just by being near her.

But she did not like the idea of being manipulated for someone's selfish reasons.

And to conjure up such a ridiculous story with the intent of capturing a sympathetic ear… it was simply unkind of anyone.

Not one to wear her heart on her sleeve, Minerva climbed up the winding staircase with a resounding smack every time her boots hit the granite stairs.

Arriving at the top landing overlooking the bay, she sat by the window and pulled out her wand hidden in the side of her boot. She looked at the piece of wood critically, even though she'd memorized its features time and time again.

Dark wood, Gaelic inscriptions, thirteen inches exactly, slight nick on the side when she had thrown it at Tibbot.

Holding it in her long fingers, she twirled it delicately, levitating the small particles of sand on the stone floor.

She twisted them this way and that, creating meaningless yet beautiful designs before letting them fall to the floor.

The ocean battered against the rocks, salty spray flying up and lingering a brief moment before plunging back in to mingle with the gray water. The ripples across the billows indicated a strong easterly wind.

A few flashes of silver hinted to the fish swimming below, enjoying the warmer temperatures of the shallow water.

Soothing. Oblivious to the dull ache growing in Minerva's heart.

She closed her eyes for what felt like a moment but could have been a lifetime when she heard the distinct sounds of footsteps approaching the landing.

"I don't want to talk to you. Not now, not ever." She said coldly.

"Well that will be hard, seeing as you'll be waking up to me everyday." Siofra's soft voice replied.

Minerva turned to her little sister and extended her arm, motioning for her to sit beside her. "I'm sorry, I thought it was someone else."

"I gathered as much."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked softly.

Minerva shifted and crossed her arms. "You could probably guess."

Nodding, "Yes, I could, but I'd much rather hear it from you when you're ready."

The elder sister stood up and paced around the small landing, her nerves already frayed and her head spinning.

"I think I like her." Minerva whispered.

Siofra nodded but stayed silent.

"And she likes me, I think."

Another nod.

"But I can't so I won't and that's that."

Still silent.

"Are you going to say anything?" Minerva cried.

She shrugged. "I don't really know, I don't see the dilemma."

Throwing her hands up, Minerva cried, "DILEMMA! I like a woman! Do you realize the implications of that? The shame it would bring upon the family and myself? Don't you know everyone in Ireland already looks with suspicion upon our people? I could NEVER admit that I liked a woman… that I like women…"

By now her breaths were uneven and her hands were shaking. She slithered down into fetal position against the wall.

Realizing you like women is one thing. Having another woman make a move on you is another. But having to admit out loud to yourself and your kid sister? Hard.

She put her head between her knees and closed her eyes, waiting for the bottom to fall out like she knew it would, waiting for her sister to explode, to ridicule her…

But only silence followed, punctuated by the waves hitting the shore.

Minerva peeked her head out from behind her knees and looked at her sister. She was shocked to see Siofra absent-mindedly doodling in the sand.

"Say something." Minerva said.

"Say what?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking."

Siofra thought about it for a moment and slowly responded. "I think that I have the most amazing sister in the entire world who has taken care of me since the day I was born. I have a sister who makes sure I am safe and healthy, that my hair is braided and my clothes are neat."

She turned her blue eyes towards Minerva.

"I love you, you're the best sister in the world. And I don't care if you're in love with a woman, a man, a horse, or a goddamn pig," Minerva's eyes went wide at her sister's language, "I don't care. You're my sister. And I love you, and that's all I think matters."

Jumping up, Minerva threw her arms around her baby sister and kissed her head. "I love you too."

Their moment was interrupted by yet another set of feet climbing up the stairs.

"I'll leave you two be." Siofra whispered before apparating away.

Minerva stood quickly and scrambled towards the furthest wall from the stairs' opening.

"I heard voices," Grace's distinct voice said.

"Some people frown upon that, you know."

Grace walked forward but stopped, as if unsure how to continue. Minerva made no move to meet her.

"I wasn't lying to you."

Minerva scoffed but Grace continued, "I really wasn't. I will have to be married eventually. And I wasn't lying about liking you either, Minerva."

Her heart soared when those lips said her name.

What she wanted to do was to slap her, yell at her. Tell her to get the hell out and stay out.

But she couldn't do that. She had her so close, and like any Irishman drunk on his whiskey, she knew she couldn't go back to before Grace.

Slowly she moved forward, arm extended, her long fingers intertwining with Grace's rough yet gentle hands.

"I like you too."

They stared at each other, Minerva's thumb tracing invisible patterns on Grace's hands.

"What now?" The pirate asked softly.

Feeling suddenly brave, Minerva stepped forward, clearly now in Grace's personal space.

When she didn't move away, she raised her hand and with a nearly phantom contact brushed the tips of her long fingers against Grace's freckled cheek.

She leaned in, breathing in Minerva's smell against her wrist, making the witch gasp and close her eyes.

There are moments in life that make one literally see time passing. Each millisecond is permeated with something that strikes the senses. A flash of light against a dew-covered blade of grass. The small breeze from a gap in the stone ceiling. The smell of the sand as the waves marched their age-old path towards the high tide line.

Such was this moment on the top of the castle, as emerald eyes bore into brown. As Grace leaned in, her lips slightly curved into a clever smile, and as Minerva's body pressed inch by inch against her pirate, and as Grace's fuller lips finally reached up and captured Minerva's thin ones…

And for a brief and shining moment, all in their world was right.

Xxxxxxxxxx

**Now go review!**


End file.
